Tag: community

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Standards, Political Rhetoric, and Underestimating Children

Embedded in the discourse of the Common Core and pretty much all of the political and corporate discussion of education is a negative view of children (teachers, too, but that’s a separate discussion). In fact, our entire institution of schooling is based on the deficits of being a child. Such a view is fundamentally poisonous. We don’t trust children. We underestimate their abilities and capabilities. We set up schools as prison factories to control every part of a child’s life. We have “manage” children as if they are a herd of cattle. We talk about building responsibility in children, as if such an idea is completely foreign to a child.

We have a tendency propagated by the politicians, corporations, media, and the institution of schooling to grossly under-estimate students in all respects. Such views are a carry-over from behaviorism and related early theories (although certainly not from John Dewey or George Herbert Mead), where children were viewed as “primitive” and as “empty vessels.” Children are very capable… way more than we think. Here’s an excerpt of observations from a teacher’s classroom in an east coast metropolitan public school. It takes place in March, in a grade 4 classroom. Although this is a specific day in one classroom, the teacher did the same thing in grades 1 through 3. This was her first year at grade 4.

EXAMPLE 9.2: OBSERVATIONS OF A DAY IN A CLASSROOM COMMUNITY

The following observations took place during a one-day visit to a public school classroom in a major urban area. The classroom (depicted in Example 9.4) consisted of 25 grade 4 students of mixed ethnic backgrounds, including a range of abilities in speaking English. This visit took place in mid-April, well into the school year, and after six or seven months of work on establishing the classroom community.

The day started with children wandering into the classroom during the 15 to 20 minutes before school started. As the children settled into the room, they talked with each other, examined some of their ongoing experiments with plant growth, played with blocks, or played with one of the two birds in a cage near the teacher’s desk in the corner. Some students engaged in short conversations with the teacher, whom they addressed her by her first name (we will call her Jane). (The teacher said that in her first teaching position, the principal told her that the children would not respect her if they called her by her first name. She replied, “I’ll keep that in mind. And if that happens, I’ll change.” She never has.) Everyone was very relaxed as the beginning of the school day approached.

With only a quiet indication by the teacher (I was not aware of any overt signal), the students gathered in the small carpeted area set aside for group gatherings. The teacher had been absent the day before. She had arranged for a substitute so that she could make her appointment with a doctor; however, the substitute was canceled due to an administrative mistake.
Jane started, “I hear you didn’t have a substitute yesterday?”
The children in near unison asked, “Yeah, where were you?”
After explaining, Jane asked, “So, what did you do?”
One girl said, “I took the attendance, then took it to the office. When I got back, we all decided that we’d continue reading [a book they were reading]. So, we all took turns reading and then we discussed it.”
Jane, half laughing, said, “Well, what do you need me for? The office was impressed that you really didn’t need a teacher.”

Following this interaction, another girl took the attendance with their bird mascot sitting on her shoulder. When she was ready to take the attendance to the office, she started to return the bird to the cage, but Jane said, “Why don’t you take him with you. Everyone likes to see him.”

Then, almost seamlessly, the first instructional activity of the day began. Jane briefly explained that she was going to pass around a sealed plastic sandwich bag with very moldy bread inside. As the bag was passed around, each child made one observation. Throughout the entire activity, the only sound besides the one child talking was the screeching of a bird from across the room. All of the children were listening intently to what each child had to say:

“It’s green.”

“It feels like clay.”

“Looks like moss.”

“Some of it feels hard.”

“Some of it looks like fried pistachio nuts.”

After this session, the children went off to work in groups on several of their plant study activities and experiments. They started examining a number of plastic baggies of different kinds of mold, which they had grown by placing fruit, bread, sandwiches, and so forth, in different locations around the room. As they finished this activity, they took measurements of their plant growth experiments and sketched and made observations of various kinds of stems.

Throughout this time, I wandered around the room talking to and observing the children. I noticed after one circuit of the room that a group I had spoken with was no longer the same. The group members had changed. Then I began to notice that all of the groups changed from time to time, as children got up and joined different groups. I also noticed that all of the talk taking place among the students was about the work in which they were engaged. They shared observations, argued about results, and negotiated explanations. As some children finished with all of their plant activities, they began other activities. A group of boys started playing on the computer. A group of girls took out a box of geo-blocks and began making different kinds of patterns. Another group of boys constructed buildings out of blocks. When all of the students were finished with the plant activities, they gathered on the carpet and shared the results from their plant experiments and activities.

The schedule for the day was written on the chalkboard:

8:20 Plants
9:20 Social Studies
9:45 Gym
10:30 Science Talk
11:00 Quiet Time
11:30–12:15 Lunch
12:30 Math
1:15 Cleanup
1:30 Meeting

However, social studies never happened. I overheard one child say to others at the table as 9:30 approached, “Aren’t we supposed to be doing social studies?” Another boy said very quietly, “It doesn’t matter. We’ll do it another time.”
After gym, the students and Jane gathered together on the carpet. Everyone sat on the floor in a big circle with a small tape recorder in the center of the circle. Jane began by saying, “Well, we haven’t done this for a while, so we’ll see how it goes (referring to doing science talks). We’ve been studying plants for a while and I thought it might be a good time to try to answer this question: How did plants begin?” Almost all of the children started talking at the same time. But as soon as one child established that he or she had the “floor”, everyone else immediately stopped and listened intently. Only occasionally did Jane speak, and usually to ask a clarifying question. Throughout the science talk session, she took notes and listened carefully to every point made by the students. The content of the science talk turned very quickly to the issue of how plants moved onto the land. One boy brought up the notion of increasing complexity (“algae doesn’t have that many parts”). Before long, a disagreement emerged about the dispersion and origin of plants on different continents. As different students stated their point and supporting rationale, everyone else listened very carefully. Finally, one girl reminded the others that all of the continents were “smushed together” a long time ago. From start to finish, all of the children were very supportive and encouraging of one another. Those who did not talk as much were supported with cheers and comments by the others, showing their interest in what the quieter individuals had to say. At one point, Jane added that one quiet girl’s comments were “very important and could have fit in after earlier comments.” She continued by explaining this girl’s comments could have led to a new theme to be followed.

Two of the ESL (English as a second language) students were almost always sitting together. One could speak and understand virtually no English, while the other was capable of functioning in English. Apparently, from the beginning of the year, these two boys paired up on their own, one acting as the translator for the other. Through the entire science talk, the two boys sat next to each other, whispering translations and comments.

At the end of the day, the children conducted a classroom meeting. One child acted as the moderator, while others brought up points or added to others’ comments. One child brought up a concern that after quiet time “it gets too noisy. And, some of us still want to read.” Other children suggested ways of accommodating the needs of those who wanted to play and those who wanted to read. Another child brought up an issue: “[A girl in another class] is always picked last when we play kick ball at recess. And now she’s crying a lot. And I don’t think it’s fair.” Both boys and girls added comments about how it feels to be picked last and generated some options for picking teams so that the same person would not always be picked last.

This day in the classroom was characterized by the teacher’s and students’ genuineness. Although energetic, the environment had a quality of being very laid back. Smiles and laughs were frequent on the faces of the teacher and children. Jane cared deeply about her students. She treated them each as respected citizens of the community — each with something important to offer. Her dealings with the children were marked by gentleness, as she prodded, guided, and supported the children. At one point, a group of children was making fun of someone, and with an almost lighthearted but obviously serious approach, Jane said very gently, “Thank you, I don’t need imitators over here.”

Her gentleness and caring seemed to be adopted by the children. The children treated everyone with respect. They cared how others felt and celebrated in each other’s successes. Jane admits that the year did not start off this way. It was only in the last month or so that the children had settled into a stable and functional community.

From: Bloom, J. W. (2008). Creating a classroom community of young scientists (Chapter 6). New York: Routledge. Purchase from: Publisher or Amazon.

Such an example from a classroom is not all that unusual. Yes, “Jane” was an exceptional teacher, but there are many exceptional teachers. But, she worked hard at creating such communities that valued children’s inherent abilities and humanity. I’ve seen many classrooms where the same sort of atmosphere and community had been established.

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More Shootings and We Still Haven’t Learned

Yet another school shooting today, and this time young children, as well as adults.

Of course, we still think everyone should have guns, even though the 2nd Amendment was not intended to allow guns in everyone’s homes, but rather for state organized militia. We should remember that those were very different times.

But, the issue of gun control is somewhat secondary to what has been a recurring pattern in our schools. Fundamentally, our whole notion of dealing with children in and out of schools is really heartless, much in the same way Boehner and his colleagues want to treat our elder citizens. Kids and the elderly are just numbers and pawns in a game of money and politics.

If we really want to help children, we don’t need to “raise standards,” use more high stakes tests, implement “zero tolerance” (just another form of heartlessness), or set up a “Common Core” curriculum. None of these efforts really have anything to do with the welfare of children. If we really cared about our children, we would help teachers formulate approaches to develop relationships. Children need to learn how to appreciate one another, to value differences, to develop empathy, and negotiate solutions to particular problems. When I was in the classroom, the personal and social problems that arose always trumped whatever agenda I had for the day or the week. We’d drop everything and work on ways to communicate and appreciate one another. It’s all about developing deeply meaningful and empathic communities in schools. When kids feel appreciated, they don’t act out with violence. But, of course, adults don’t do a very good job of modeling relationships and community. Look at our congress and the way they treat each other and the way they propagate fear and hatred of other cultures.

What the people who develop educational policy don’t realize is that when children begin to feel good about themselves and each other, they learn more than we could ever imagine. But, maybe that’s the issue. Maybe the policy-makers don’t want our children to feel good about themselves and don’t want them to learn more than some meaningless content.

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The Travesty of “Distance Education”

If you watch television, browse the internet, read magazines and newspapers, listen to the radio, or read bulletin boards and billboards, you’ve been bombarded with advertisements about distance education degrees, like those listed below:

  • “Earn an Distance Degree In 5 Days”
  • “Earn a degree online while you keep
working.”
  • “It’s back to school time-Have you
 registered for your online classes?”
  • “Earn A Degree On Your Sched.”
  • “Earn Online Degree Fast
Under $99/Credit hr. Books Included”
  • “Get Your Education Online at an
Accredited University. Apply Now!”
  • “A Quality Education, Convenient For
 The Career-Focused Professional”
  • “Online, Accelerated, Accredited & Affordable Degree Programs-Sign Up! “
  • “Earn Your Degree Fast. 100% Online.
Class Starts Jan. 4th. Apply Now!”
  • “Earn a Degree & Enrich Your Life!”
  • “Get a top degree at your own pace & 
time from an accredited university!”
  • “The Full University Experience
 Anytime, Anywhere. Learn How!”
  • “Pursue your degree online. It’s 
never been easier. Learn how.”
  • “The Smart Choice For Working 
Professionals.”

The first one is among my personal favorites. This ad really provides one with a great deal of confidence about learning how to write poorly (e.g., “an Distance degree”). It also provides an honest assessment of the value of such a degree in terms of the amount of time needed (i.e., “5 days”). The ninth one also models good writing ( i.e., “Earn your degree fast”). However, the one ad that is probably the most outrageous lie is “The Full University Experience Anytime, Anywhere.”

My sarcasm in the last paragraph does not describe just how disturbed and frightened I am about the very dangerous direction we’re taking in education. The “distance” in distance education is much more than the physical distances that such programs offer to span. The real dangerous distance involves a number of major disconnects:

Disconnect #1: “Education” (as in distance education) has nothing to do with “real” learning.

By “real learning,” I mean learning that not only involves deep and extensively interconnected conceptual understandings, but also involves (a) learning how to think deeply, critically, and creatively; (b) developing an identity as a learner and thinker in whatever disciplinary area one is involved; (c) learning how to participate in the community of that particular discipline; and (d) developing complex and meaningful connections to the discipline and its knowledge, ways of thinking, ways of talking, and methods (of knowledge production, inquiry, communication, and so forth). Such “real learning” cannot take place in an online environment, since it requires the connections and relationships to both the experts and compatriot novices in a variety of settings that include classrooms, hallways, offices, coffee shops, and other places where fellow community members relate.

Disconnect #2: Online programs are based on antiquated theories of learning.

Although a number of education researchers and theorists from the late 1800’s through the latter part of the mid-1900’s promoted approaches to learning that focused on “how to inquire” and “how to produce knowledge,” the force that has dominated our schools and views of education for the past 70 years or so has been rooted in behaviorism and the related mechanistic and positivistic concepts. Although very few people will admit to such a view of learning, actions and language betray that denial.

Mechanist, positivist, and behaviorist views are very seductive. They portray a world that is relatively simple and well-structured, with clearly delineated “right answers.” In fact, such a view portrays “learning” as the ability to demonstrate (i.e., select correct answers on tests) one’s recall of specific content knowledge. At the same time, this perspective does not place any value (a) on one’s emotional connections to the discipline; (b) on one’s ability to think analytically, critically, or creatively; (c) on one’s participation in a community of learners or professionals-to-be; (d) on one’s ability to solve problems or generate important questions. Such a view is basically a “deadened” or lifeless view of learning.

More recent research-based and theoretical frameworks of learning (including brain-based learning, constructivist and social constructivism, embodied dynamicism, learning as a complex adaptive system, distributed learning, and others) view learning as quite different. Learning involves much more than simple “book-type knowledge” that is “stored” in one’s brain. In fact, the more we learn about learning, the more we are finding that the processes of learning extend beyond the brain to other parts of our bodies and even beyond our bodies altogether. Basketball players, on-site technology groups, teams of scientists, actors in a performance, and other contexts where groups of people are learning together involves learning that is distributed among and cycles through the physical context and individuals. Conceptual learning is closely interconnected with emotions, values, beliefs, imagery, humor, aesthetics, physical and social experiences, and the whole of our human embodied experience.

When we remove the social experiences and contexts and limit the embodied social experience, we reduce “learning” to the acquisition of knowledge of words and disembodied concepts. When words and concepts are so readily accessible, we do not need education that focuses almost entirely on such knowledge acquisition. We need learning opportunities that focus (a) on the development of thinking that is analytical, critical, and creative (a part of which needs to focus on evaluating knowledge claims found so easily on the internet); (b) on the social negotiation and production of knowledge claims (as processes of participating in learning communities); and (c) on developing complex interconnections with subject matter disciplines that involve emotions, other aspects of our personal “contexts of meaning,” and the distributed aspects of learning and knowing.

Disconnect #3: The possibilities for learning as transformation are severely limited, if not impossible.

Learning, at its best, offers us opportunities to transform. Transformation may be the penultimate “learning outcome.” Such transformations occur when we have engaged in a learning context, when we have been challenged to re-evaluate our assumptions, and when we participate in a social context that both pushes us to delve into the world of ideas and provides the support of a “safe” social environment where we can take risks.

Disconnect #4: Learning as shared human experience does not occur.

As mentioned above, the shared experiences in online environments has a number of problems: (a) actual personal connections cannot happen, where people can see sphere of people and physical context with all kinds of information flowing in complex pathways throughout learning activities (video cannot capture this sphere); (b) shared experiences are limited to written words and possible myopic and/or tunnel-vision video views of others; (c) communication has the potential to be dangerous – that is, to promote disconnected communication where people have no stake in the social connections in an actual physical location; (d) participants cannot smell, feel, touch, and hear (more than whatever is “official,” if that) the context of the physical and social context – all of these senses are important components in developing contextually-embedded learning; (e) people cannot interact with others, including teachers or mentors, and with materials and objects in ways that are more spontaneous. Such interactions are phenomenally more meaningful and relevant to learners.

Disconnect #5: Emergent learning is grossly limited, if not impossible.

One of the most exciting and meaningful learning events occur where some idea, problem, or question emerges from the particular learning community and changes the direction of ensuing activities. Such an emergent curriculum provides a sense of “ownership” (by students) over what is being “studied.” Emergent curriculums value ideas, questions, and problems, while promoting recursive, non-linear approaches to pursuing understanding. On the other hand, almost all online environments are static and linear. Although our system of schooling and likewise most teachers do not promote or value emergent curricular opportunities, they could. Distance education cannot promote emergence. Emergent curricular opportunities occur where the spontaneity of personal interactions, safe environments, and conceptually and materials-rich contexts provide for meaningful, relevant, dynamic, and embodied engagement.

Disconnect #6: Online courses and programs promote a devaluation of engaged and connected learning.

It’s far too easy to play the game of going through the motions or jumping through hoops with little if any emotional and complex engagement in the material. As teachers, we can’t see the faces and body language or look into the eyes of our students as they engage in learning activities. For all we know, someone else is sitting in front of the computer. However, the point is that there is no real dynamic interaction between teacher and students, where teachers can change the dynamics in ways that may further engage students.

Disconnect #7: Learning as induction into a community of practice is one of a severely crippled approach.

As should be evident from the previous six disconnects, online environments are limited in the ability to help induct people into a learning community or community of practice. Virtual “communities” that extend “real” communities may be valuable, but they do not replace “real” communities.

Fundamentally, online distance education is a very poor substitute for education that occurs with groups of people within a physical setting. Of course, many classrooms do not function much differently from those that are offered online. However, we can make changes to such static classrooms, where such changes cannot occur online.

The dangers of treading this path of distance education are summarized in the following points.

  • Learning in a world of easy access to information is omitting the important learning involved:
  • in critical, analytical, and creative thinking;
  • in problem solving;
  • in problem posing;
  • in evaluation of knowledge claims;
  • in promoting knowledge production rather than knowledge consumption among learners;
  • in developing an “identity” as a valued participant in a particular community;
  • in developing the skills and attributes of a community participant;
  • Education is being trivialized.
  • Education is being devalued… even further than it already has been.
  • Learning is becoming increasingly superficial, disconnected, fragmented, and meaningless.
  • Online education is disembodying learning.
  • Online education is undermining the importance of spontaneous social interactions and emergent curriculum.

(originally published December 30, 2009)

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Disconnects – A Brief Initial Exploration

The initial question I posed on my previous post (What is the extent of the disconnects we experience today?) is almost overwhelming. Each of us, if we sit and think about it, can come up with a huge list of examples of the disconnects we experience in our lives. In some ways the list seems endless.

In order to make such a list more manageable, I’ve been thinking for several years that the major categories (there could be more…) of disconnects involve:

  • disconnects to one’s self (psychological and spiritual)
  • disconnects to others, including family, friends, communities, cultures, etc.
  • disconnects to our physical worlds – worlds of work, worlds of play, etc.
  • disconnects to the natural environment
  • disconnects to our mental world, the world of ideas and imagination

The Free Online Dictionary (http://www.thefreedictionary.com/disconnect) defines “disconnect” as: “

  • to sever or interrupt the connection of or between;
  • a lack of connection or a disparity;
  • an unbridgeable disparity (as from a failure of understanding);
  • pull the plug… and render inoperable.”

So, when we consider disconnects in our lives, we need to consider, on the one hand, the idea of connection and, on the other hand, how we may be severed or how there may be a disparity within ourselves or between self and other (whatever that “other” may be).

People often look at me cross-eyed when I suggest that people may be disconnected with themselves. We are who we are. How can we be disconnected? However, the disconnections can be numerous. Many of us struggle with disconnections between mind and body, as well as I and other(s). We may feel a sense of awkwardness or self-consciousness as we walk in a public place. We may try to ignore and cover up a particular emotional state, or conversely, we over-indulge in the emotion and ignore everything else. Whatever is happening, there just seems to be an edge of awkwardness or discomfort. Much of this confusion has been handed down to us from Plato and especially Descartes, whose tremendous influence on western societies is known as Cartesian duality (Russell, 1945). Descartes made it official that there were two worlds: one, the physical world; two, the mental world. Although Buddhists consider this duality as basic to the human ego (which interferes with living to our full potential), ever since the 17th Century, the Cartesian duality gave western societies an official “Big Disconnect.” So, rather than dualism as a problem, dualism became the official and correct way to perceive and interact with the world.

————————–

Disconnects pervade our individual lives, our schools, science and its effects on our lives, and society as a whole. All of these issues appear to share universal origins in the patterns of how we layer ourselves and our social structures and of how such layers create other patterns of relations and actions.

The topic of “layers and layering” is worthy of a lengthy and detailed treatment. However, a brief overview may be useful. Layers function to help provide stability in physical, biological, social, and psychological structures. Some layers are mostly physical in nature, like those of buildings and the earth, while others are more functional, such as those of biological organ systems, organizational structures, and so forth (Bloom & Volk, 2007; Volk, 1995; Volk & Bloom, 2007). However, the importance of layers in terms of our discussion of disconnects and connects has to do more with how they define relationships in social contexts and how we develop and use psychological layers as protective barriers. Most of the social layering we experience are hierarchical in nature. Hierarchies are characterized by top-down control. People in the top layers control those below them. However, there are other ways of layering social systems. Those may be referred to as holarchies or embedded layers. In social systems, holarchies do not have the same types of relationships as hierarchies. In fact, you usually see the relationships in hierarchies before you can see the layers. In contrast, you can often see the layers in holarchies before you can understand the relationships between them. An example of a holarchic community can be thought of as an apprenticeship community. The mentor is in the center as the full participant and the apprentices are at varying degrees (layers) of participation as they work toward being in the center (see Lave & Wenger, 1991; Wenger, 1998). The center of a holarchy is more one of shared power, rather than the top-down power of hierarchies.

Gregory Bateson described three types of relationships, which may be useful to consider in terms of social connects and disconnects. He referred to “symmetrical” relationships as competitive relationships, where individuals are vying for control. These types of relationships tend to disconnect. The second type of relationship is “complementary” or dominant-submissive. These relationships also tend to disconnect. The third type of relationship is “reciprocal” or one where the parties in a relationship continually negotiate issues in the relationship. These types of negotiable relationships are the only ones that tend to connect over the long term (Bateson, 1972). The interesting questions about relationships and layers revolve around what sorts of relationships arise from different layered social situations. Or, what kinds of relationships are encouraged and supported by different types of layering?

These patterns of layers and relationships can contribute to the great “disconnects” within individuals, between one another, between ourselves and our mental, social, political, physical, and biological worlds. In filling up our worlds with entertainment, internal dialogues, and defenses against entry from the outside world, we begin to lose touch with who we are. Our identities become embedded in notions of work, religion, and whatever our minds discursively generate. The answer to “who am I?” tends to be based upon what we do and upon our superficial characteristics. But, who are we really? In many tribal cultures, identity is based upon one’s place among families, clans, and relationships to others (Maybury-Lewis, D., 1992).

In future posts, I will explore the various kinds of disconnects outlined above and how we might move toward connecting.

————————–

References

Bateson, G. (1972/2000). Steps to an ecology of mind. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Bloom, J. W., & Volk, T. (2007). The use of metapatterns for research into complex systems of teaching, learning, and schooling. Part I: Applications. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity and Education, 4(1), 45—68. (Available online at: http://www.complexityandeducation.ualberta.ca/COMPLICITY4/documents/Complicity_41e_Bloom_Volk.pdf)

Lave, J., & Wenger, E. (1991). Situated learning: Legitimate peripheral participation. New York: Cambridge University Press.

Maybury-Lewis, D. (1992). Millennium: Tribal wisdom in the modern world. New York: Viking.

Russell, B. (1945). A history of western philosophy: And its connection with political and social circumstances from the earliest times to the present day. New York: Simon and Schuster.

Volk, T. (1995). Metapatterns: Across space, time, and mind. New York: Columbia University Press.

Volk, T., & Bloom, J. W. (2007). The use of metapatterns for research into complex systems of teaching, learning, and schooling. Part II: Metapatterns in nature and culture. Complicity: An International Journal of Complexity and Education, 4(1), 25—43. (Available online at: http://www.complexityandeducation.ualberta.ca/COMPLICITY4/documents/Complicity_41d_Volk_Bloom.pdf)

Wenger, E. (1998). Communities of practice: Learning, meaning, and identity. New York: Cambridge University Press.

(originally published: THURSDAY, JUNE 26, 2008)

© 2008 by Jeffrey W. Bloom